


Every Gun Makes Its Own Tune

by SierraNovembr



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - American Civil War, Alternate Universe - Western, Bathing/Washing, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, M/M, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 21:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15849906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SierraNovembr/pseuds/SierraNovembr
Summary: James squints against the harsh glare of the midday sun, peering through the swirling clouds of dry dust kicked up by the group.  Grit coats his clothes, the horses’ flanks, and the down-turned faces of his fellow travelers.There is no refuge for broken down people in this place.





	Every Gun Makes Its Own Tune

**Author's Note:**

> I have been reading some fantastic Western AUs lately (see links in end notes or [here on tumblr](https://sierranovembr.tumblr.com/post/177578396055/5-1-marvel-western-au-recs)). I was inspired to add a short Winteriron one. 
> 
> This is set in the American Civil War, during the New Mexico campaign, but it's not too specific. Considering the timing, when James Barnes was born in this AU, James Buchanan was a Senator from Pennsylvania. Which would be an even stranger choice for his parents than in canon, so I couldn't see a reason to call him "Bucky." I also have not worked in the Winter Soldier, so Tony uses desert themed nicknames instead of Winter ones.

The sudden hush wakes James from a fitful doze. The noise of the horses, the creaking groan of the wagon, and the multitude of voices had folded around him in a comfortable cacophony for the last several hours. Now the sounds are fading as the long line of the refugee caravan slows to a crawl. He sits up in the back of the stilled wagon. His abdominal muscles protest as his sleep-sore body forgets to compensate for the still-startling lack of his left arm.

James squints against the harsh glare of the midday sun, peering through the swirling clouds of dry dust kicked up by the group. Grit coats his clothes, the horses’ flanks, and the down-turned faces of his fellow travelers. They’ve made it to a small town, little more than a cluster of buildings on either side of a broad main street. The sun-bleached boards that line the road are pock-marked and broken in places, burned. Even this far west, the war has touched the people here.

James can see it in the way the town’s sheriff is shaking his head at the couple in the front wagon. There is no refuge for broken down people in this place. They have their own to see to. Those traveling on foot wearily begin their march once again. The stream of people passes by the wagon, ducked faces hiding from the sun under bonnets and wide-brimmed hats. The familiar swirling feeling of exhaustion beckons him back to the tiny space he’s carved out among the family’s belongings, a space Tony had insisted on paying for with nearly the last of their silver, but James can’t sleep again yet. He has to – 

Tony. 

James feels his gaze catch on the other man the same way that hardtack used to stick in his throat when their unit was on the march, undeniably painful but in a way that reminded you that you needed it to stay alive. It still hurts to see Tony like this; the way his leather coat hangs off his too-thin frame makes something inside James twist and tighten.

Tony lingers on the step of a two-story building, shooting nervous glances through the open doors into the dark space beyond. The prettily carved posts and window frames mark it as a nice establishment, once upon a time, maybe a classy saloon with rooms for rent in the upper level. Today, however, the windows are hastily boarded up, planks nailed haphazardly over glass heavily caked with dirt. Broken chairs and boxes spill out from the dark mouth of the doorway in a trail of debris half way into the street.

Tony looks back at James, his big brown eyes are somehow flat with exhaustion and full of pleading at the same time before Tony turns to stroll into the building as casual as a man after a drink at the end of a long day. His nonchalance is betrayed by the steadying hand he keeps on the door frame and the wobble in his steps as he steers himself around the broken furniture. 

James clenches his jaw and lets himself slip to the ground with a soft thump. When he makes it to the doorway, he can see that the building was once a hotel. His eyes haven’t entirely adjusted to the dim interior, but the high counter directly across from the doorway and the lack of a tables and liquor bottles make it obvious. Tony won’t be tested by those old demons this afternoon. James can’t help the sigh of relief he gives as Tony makes a show of grabbing the handle of the small bell next to the reservations book and ringing it repeatedly. 

“Stop that,” James scolds when Tony starts flipping through the book. He pulls Tony back and tucks him under his arm. Tony leans into his side for too short a moment before he slips deeper into the room, picking his way through a bombed-out sitting area and heading towards the staircase.

“Wait, Tony. The wagon – “

“They only agreed to take us this far, Prickles. Might as well have a look around.”

“Careful!” James hisses as Tony starts up the stairs, each footstep drawing forth a whining squeak from the damaged structure. He shushes the boards under his feet and continues upward, ducking around a large beam lying diagonally across the staircase. James gingerly follows. His legs are weak and sore after being crammed in the wagon, but after almost a year together, there isn’t a force on the earth that would keep him from following that man. James had been pulled along in Tony’s wake ever since Tony’s rather impressive explosion had taken out the wall of their shared Southern prison. They had returned to the front for a short time, but when James was shot in the bicep, it was Tony who took up the stretcher after the medic himself was shot and dragged James away. It was Tony who brought him all the way to the monastery and begged help from Father Ramirez. It was Tony who bought their passage with the caravan using a combination of his money, charm, and ability to do wagon repairs on the trail.

Tony disappears around the corner at the top of the staircase and James picks up his pace, grabbing at the banister with his remaining hand for support. When he has eyes on the other man again, Tony is maneuvering through a hallway around more downed support beams with an eager smile on his face. 

“What’s in your head now, Tony?”

Tony winks back at him, saying, “You’ll see, Sunshine.” He pokes a head into one of the rooms of the corridor and shakes his head. James glances in to see the room is wrecked, furniture splintered and tossed about.

The next room is more promising. Despite the actual hole in the wall, the furniture is intact and Tony slides in. Ever curious, he picks through the belongings abandoned on the round center table before darting his eyes to the large empty fireplace and the pair of swinging doors marking off a small private area. Tony’s eyes grow wide and he drops the items in his hand to approach the corner. He has a quiet reverence on his face, like he can’t believe his luck. James imagines it’s the same look he has had every day from the moment at the mission when he realized that Tony was in this with him for as long as they were each still breathing. James watches him push open the door and freeze. He crosses the room in three strides, suddenly cursing himself for letting Tony wander around, but when he sees what’s behind the door, he lets out a low groan.

It’s a bathtub. It’s a _bath_ , water clear and still in the silent room. James steps towards it and lets his fingers dip below the surface. It’s not warm, but after the heat of the trail, he’s not complaining. Heaven, he’s not nearly complaining. Tony turns, shifting the pile of fine clothing away from the small shelf behind the tub until he comes up with a glass bottle. He pulls the stopper and the cloying smell of roses is released.

“James.” It comes out almost a whimper. Tony upends the bottle over the water. The pale powder drifts like snow onto the surface. A few swishes of his hands and the bath starts to fill with bubbles. James feels his chest tighten and then expand, a simple happiness that feels like a hot air balloon rising inside him. He pulls Tony to him, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. Their faces are filthy and the grit and their stubble scrapes between them, but it doesn’t dampen his spirits. James laughs and dips his hand in the bath, cups water to his mouth, and scrubs his lips clean. He lifts another handful up to do the same for Tony.

“Tony?” The water leaks through his fingers unnoticed. James can only see the way that Tony’s clearly holding back tears. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“You’re so happy, but it’s. It’s just a _bath_ – it’s – I,” Tony whispers, voice choked, “I should be able to give you better than this every day. You deserve – “

James shushes him, pressing another kiss to Tony’s mouth, ignoring the lingering dirt to make the kiss deeper, longer. He doesn’t release Tony’s lips until it’s clear the other man is on the verge of breathlessness. “You give me everything I want and need every day you stay with me.” James has to fight through his own tight throat now. “I promise, Tony. Every single day.”

Tony sniffles, but he nods against James for a moment. He shakes himself, just a little, and then gives James a smile. “Well, what you really _need_ , today at least, is a bath. You smell worse than the cattle.”

James returns his smile. “Well.” He gestures to the ties on his clothing in invitation. Tony quickly sets to work. In very little time, they are settling into the tub. James reckons it’s a pretty big tub, but it’s still a much tighter fit to get the both of them into it than he was expecting. James get a sharp elbow to his ribs before they manage to slot together well enough to settle. Once they do, it’s hard to move much, and James lets himself relax into the feeling of soaking off the miles of travel.

James runs his hand down Tony’s sides, feeling the too-prominent ribs. “If I need a bath, you need a meal. You gonna let me get some food in you tonight, Tony?”

“I’m not the only one.” Tony gently pats James on his bony knee. “But one thing at a time, Sunshine.”

James glares at the man under his arm until Tony huffs a frustrated breath. “There’s not much money left.”

“That’s not gonna stop me from doing what needs done. I’m keeping you, honey, and that means y’ain’t allowed to waste away to nothin’.” James feels his voice drop into a low growl.

Tony makes shushing noise and tips his head back to look at James. “’m not going anywhere, James. A whole team of draft horses couldn’t drag me away from you.”

James presses a kiss into his temple, taking a full breath. “Hmm. Glad to hear it. ‘Course, I might need those horses myself if your smell gets any more overpowerin’.”

Tony makes an offended noise and splashes James right in the face. James sputters and laughs as Tony attacks them both in turn with a cake of soap. Soon his mock-annoyance drains away and they relax again. Tony’s fingers are gentle as they work the lather over sore muscles and dirty skin.

James feels like he’s floating until Tony eventually coaxes him to stand up and step out of the tub. They both smell like flowers and wet skin and James feels his smile go crooked the way Tony loves. Tony looks up at him from where he is wiping the water off James’ legs and then they are kissing again.

James blinks and they are standing next to the bed. Tony’s trying to nudge James down into the sheets, but James is still significantly heavier, and he has to do a perimeter before he’ll be able to sleep.

His eyes catch on the holes blown through two of the walls and the futility of his normal security measures strikes him all at once. Before he can stop it, slightly hysterical laughter is pouring out of him. He can feel the weeks of stress, of moving and hunger and glancing over their shoulders for thieves or worse, slipping around in his belly like a snake. God in heaven, they keep trying, but despite the stolen moments James spends with Tony in his arms, it never seems like he will get any rest. Tony pats his back and offers him a wry smile when James meets his eyes.

James eventually feels the grip of the laughter weaken, and he slumps against Tony’s side. Tony uses the opportunity to tip James over into bed. James makes a protesting sound which Tony shushes before leaning over and kissing away any further complaints James might have made. He finally pulls back to promise, “I’ll walk the room, James. Sleep.”

“The guns, too,” James reminds him. Tony nods and rummages around their discarded things to get to the guns. James watches through half-lidded eyes as Tony places their weaponry in strategic locations, but he’s out before the other man crawls into bed beside him.

\----------------------------

James wakes to the sound of footsteps in the hallway. He is curled on his good side, back to the doorway. Tony is tucked against his side, nearly disappearing under the blankets and the crook of James’s arm. He only has a bleary moment to be grateful that Tony won’t be seen from the intruder’s vantage point when the door slams open and Tony jerks awake. James stares into startled brown eyes, but neither of them make a sound, waiting breathlessly for a hint of who just walked into their lives.

“Hmph.” A snort. “I’ve been looking for you for eight months.” The voice is familiar enough, but the venom dripping from it is harsher than James remembers. 

Rumlow. James tenses, ready to jump out of the bed at him, but the quiet click of a gun cocking makes him reconsider.

“Barnes,” he spits. “Y’know. You skipped out on our dear Armin Zola.” 

James feels his lungs freeze. That was a name that he’d have been grateful never to hear again. The sadist who ran the prison. James has to remind himself to breathe. Tony’s eyes narrow in an angry glare, but he keeps himself tucked out of sight.

“He had such an interesting surprise in store for you. Mighty disappointed when you weren’t around to…experience it.”

Tony is shifting against him, very slowly working a hand up over his head. The motion presses their hips together and James is so tightly wound that he nearly moans at the contact, adrenaline and fear and his morning arousal making a confusing cocktail.

“So, he figured since it was me on shift next, I could take your place.”

Tony’s hand disappears over the top edge of the bed, but his face contorts in frustration. James swallows hard, willing his heart to get out of his throat and back to doing its job.

“Now here you are. I know you're awake, Barnes," Rumlow growls, "But don't bother to get up. I find your position suits me, and I’ve had lots of time to decide how to make you pay for what’s been done to me.”

Tony is a blur of motion and the four shots that ring out directly above his head are startlingly loud. He hears Rumlow hit the floor behind him and tips over backwards on the bed in his haste to look ‘round and see for himself. The man is moaning in a heap on the floor, a wheezing gasp to his breath that means Tony hit a lung. Tony leans up, steading his aim with an elbow on James’s chest, and takes a fifth shot. There’s a short noise from Rumlow, but he’s dead not a moment later.

Tony tsks, “When you have to shoot, shoot. Don’t talk.”

James stares up at Tony above him. He’s lucky he’s already on his back, because this man has the power to knock him flat. “Tony,” he chokes out.

Tony grins down at him, the smile on his face just a touch unhinged. He is gorgeous and dangerous, and James can’t help giving in, pulling the other man down to meet his lips in a desperate kiss.

They are probably going to have to run sooner rather than later now. Skip town; take what they can. James doesn’t know what is going to happen as soon as this kiss ends, but as Tony’s teeth scrape over his bottom lip, James knows, to the core of his bones, he is never, _never_ leaving this man.

**Author's Note:**

> Tony's last line, the title, and the scene setting are from _The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly_ which is one of my favorite movies ever. Hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> Do check out these delightful fics (Stony and Winteriron):  
> [An Empty Bottle and a Gun by Captain_Al](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5457851/chapters/12617132)  
> [Winter in Iron Valley by Lasenby_Heathcote and tisfan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11541021/chapters/26040603)  
> [to tread upon the air by starkly](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13916496)  
> [Sincerely, Yours by Reioka](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14931350/chapters/34591277)  
> [Stetsons and Schoolteachers by NotEvenCloseToStraight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15251718/chapters/35375559)


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